On a corner in town or the next street
Is the church where you've raised your voice
Every Sunday for many years you've been
In the seat of your regular choice.
Because you think it elevates prestige
And raises esteem in people's eyes,
You look upward, appearing to pray,
But that, too, is part of your disguise.
You're getting tired of your little charade
Which is mostly on account of your spouse,
Who, if the truth were really known, would
Give you lectures all over the house.
You think being in Church each Sunday
Makes you a Christian and Born again,
But being regular in a chicken coop
Will not change you into a hen.
It may seem a little unfriendly,
And you may think it is somewhat blunt,
But you won't make it to heaven at all,
if you keep putting on a false front.
The only way to Salvation is by
The blood of God's sacrificed Lamb,
In belief and full surrender
To the Creator, the Great I Am.
You'll make your Spouse ever so happy,
And everyone else will be Glad,
And this experience will give you new life,
And the most joy you have ever had.
By F. W. (Lucky) Hope
Inspirational Poetry by Lucky Hope
